The old man
Sat
In that chair
For what seemed
Like an endless
Hour

Despite
How our world
Did ignore him
When his eyes
Had been closed
All along

In protest
Of death
Where he waited
Unafraid
Each silence
Was something

Like the fearful
Wish
He’d been dreaming
Held a blankness
Quiet
And dark

Missing
Such threat
Of existence
Where time
Wouldn’t answer
His question

Even
As breath
Had escaped him
Alone
On that seat
Without help

Undignified
While he had
Passed
With the hands
Of his family
Absent

But the touch
Of a stranger
Willing
Whose empathy
Offered some
Peace

Like God
Extending
His grace
At the bridge
Which just
Doesn’t matter

If fallen
Long before
Crossing
And assuming
Faith
Is a debt

For souls
Unwilling
To chance
What fate
Has always
Been written

Facing
Doom as a
Constant
Rather
Than blaming
Their doubt

Reminding us
Heroes
Are weak
And fighters
False
As resistance

But the blessed
Who age
In acceptance
Of mortality
Triumph
With loss –

That gentleman
Hopeful
Yet gone
Felt sure
His rest
Was redeeming

Beyond
This moment
Elusive
Like a heaven
Distant
But real

So the lesson
Learned
Is endure
Among
All our transient
Efforts

As believing
Our reason
For being
Is the cause
Which acts
On its own.

– J. Pigno

My thoughts
Are a little
Disjointed
In this mind I think
They’ve broken

With the clarity
Smashed
From their judgments
Using hate like stones
Against glass

By an enemy
Fearful of mirrors
Whose existence
Proves
I am different

When reflecting pain
Like a window
Showing freedom
Is hope
They can’t see

Or a dream out there
Among pastures
So bold
And refreshingly
Different

Each daybreak
Offers them nothing
But a sunlight
Shined
On their dread

As bigotry
Learned
Is an object
Employing doubt
As its bargain

Obscuring
Happiness granted
Through clouds
We suffer
As rain

Much like hurt
Where I split
As a fractured
Whole
Without reason

Coming apart
Every second
My faith
Is shattered
By grief

Remembering
God has a plan
If only
I’m open
To asking

As long as art
Is the question
Of a silence
Begging
My wish

That memories
Happy
And sad
All become one
Before ending

And the words
I’ve spoken
In verses
Brings us back
To this place

Sometime
Before it is done
Together
As we are
Written

One lasting phrase
Of our choosing
By the piece
My life
Cannot sort.

– J. Pigno

What forces
Drive us closer
Are the ones
I long to
Seize

As they capture
In their fleetingness
Such meaning
Gone
So fast

When memories
Always miss
These moments
Lost
On purpose

For believing
Something special
Can endure
Beyond
Our breath

Or last
Like living truths
From the mouths
Of saints
Uncertain

Struggling
Through their questions
As they challenge
Faith
With death

Believing
While we must
Seek reasons
Far
And empty

Or an answer
To our transience
Which demands
We work
Too hard

Instead
Of knowing
Grace
Inherent
As their feeling

That waiting
For explanations
Is a message
Wrong
Like sin

Insisting
God did hate
By creating
Love
As finite

Forgetting
Hope brings beauty
If only
There is
Loss

Agreeing
Seconds waste
As I conquer
Fear
Of counting

These minutes
Soon expired
Before
We meet
Again

Learning
Without chance
Or a repeat
Course
Of action

How precious
Time elapses
Between
These poles
Divine.

– J. Pigno

This candle
Has no wick
For the light
Which keeps on
Burning

Between
Each stuttering
Flicker
Of my dancing
Shadow inside

When flames
Must take
Their shape
Against what fear
Has chosen

As starbursts
Newly kindled
From an open
Jar
Which sits

Near dusks
And winter moons
Through windows
Wide
And empty

Contained
Like wax with reason
To dispel
All dark
Outside

Ignited
By this faith
As I flare
Those inner
Demons

Finding
Blazing torches
Among paths
I’d never
Take

If not
For miracles’ sake
At the hands
Of swollen
Embers

Where tongues
And second chances
Are the hopes
Which guide
My path

And prove
Some glow exists
Despite
Me sitting
Pretty

Like votives
Bearing flashes
Of a soul
That’s meant
To spark.

– J. Pigno

There is
No greater motive
Than a fear
Of losing God

As I’ve struggled
With that question
To this point
My faith exists

With nooses
Hung as doubts
For claims
No man can answer

Except
In blessed scripture
Shot down
By daily needs

Where pain
Has given truth
Of a word
Which offers solace

Against our
Living hemorrhage
That cycles
Blood as choice

Through constant
Wounds of war
Like lies
To keep us guessing

If heaven
Has our reason
For enduring
Sin as flesh –

The very hurt
Which asks
To carry rage
As crosses

Confessing
Every moment
As our fate
That’s nearly lost

To anger
With our ways
Even when
All paths meander

Across
This knowing prison
Within
Each certain heart

That keeping
Hope is sane
Despite
What demons linger

As we fumble
For our purpose
Through a dark
Of endless skies

Starless
Like that wish
Which misses
What is beaming

Beyond
Our empty chances
On an Earth
Obscured by black.

Meaning
Isn’t seeing

But a veil
We cannot lift.

– J. Pigno

No one
Really knows
What the fuck
They’re even
Doing

Despite
What lies persistent
Convince
These efforts
Wrong

As works
Concealing doubt
With their meanings
True
Or special

Beyond
Such lives dependent
On those skills
Of needy
Men

Like a public
Fallen weak
To that answer
In their
Illness

Or savior
Swearing respite
By relief
Through mortal
Hands

Bringing
Instant death
Where genius
Bears
Its triumph

And hubris
Offers vengeance
Through learned
And expert
Crafts –

Nonsense
If you ask
Our God
Who isn’t
Begging

But telling
All our artists
Their truth
Should only
Last,

Not doctors
Or that task
To employ
For sake
Of reason

And money
Hanging desperate
Over heads
Whose neck
Is bent

Selling
Easy grace
When they peddle
Fame
And knowledge

While brains
Are always telling
Of a hope
That’s always
Best

Among
Our quiet faith
That’s muddled
As we
Wrestle

With jobs
Which only happen
From roles
We never
Plan.

– J. Pigno

I surrender
To this angle
Of a fear
Which can’t be
Tamed

That struggle
Never questioned
When we want
Our reason
Why

From God
In heavens place
Whose shape
Has deemed
Existence

All worship
Rife with error
For the sake
Of seeming
Wrong

So rules
And regulations
May prove
One easy
Exit

Through margins
Thick as borders
Like edges
Sick
And drawn

Where answers
Made of faith
Spell doubts
You just can’t
Measure

If the math
Is always argued
To yield
Our anxious
Thoughts

And explain
What demons
Death
Has issued
By each number

While we suffer
Asking penance
Through the instants
Claimed
As blessed –

Equations
Solved in jest
Without help
Or certain
Bridges

Along lines
That span forever
With degrees
Now grown
Apart.

– J. Pigno